"The driver told me what happened outside your building, Nina. He said some piece of trash was putting his hands on you."
Nina looked down, her fingers tightening around the fabric of her canvas tote bag. The strap dug into her palm, grounding her against the sudden churn in her stomach. She had hoped he wouldn't find out, or at least not so quickly… not until she'd had time to bury the memory somewhere Lucas couldn't reach it. "He didn't do anything, Lucas. I have everything under control."
"He held your waist." Lucas's voice dropped into a quiet, dangerous cadence that made her breath hitch. A muscle ticked in his jaw, betraying the calm he was trying to project, and his hands curled slightly at his sides, as if resisting the urge to reach for something… or someone. The stillness in him felt more threatening than any shout could have been. "The driver said you had to slap him twice just to get him off your threshold. Is that what you call having it under control?"
